


Nerd Perfect

by shiningartifact



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Facials, Humor, M/M, Nerdiness, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Romance, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-13
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 03:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiningartifact/pseuds/shiningartifact
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Frank and Gerard watch a lot of movies and have a lot of orgasms. (A long-awaited day off on tour.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nerd Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [no_tags](http://no-tags.livejournal.com/) 2012 challenge for prompt #35 - a long-awaited day off on tour. Also posted at the comm [here](http://no-tags.livejournal.com/67490.html). SO much thanks to my wonderful betas [swiiftly](http://swiiftly.livejournal.com/) and [brooklinegirl](http://brooklinegirl.livejournal.com/). They took this story and cleaned it up and made it work, and I can not thank them _enough_. ♥ If there's anyone out there who hasn't seen the Lord of the Rings movies, reading this will spoil some things.

***

Frank is heading offstage, the calls and screams of the crowd pressing against his back like an embrace, when someone reaches out from behind the stacks of bins by the wall and tugs him sideways. He lets out a (totally manly) squeak and blinks into the shadows at Gerard, whose face is round and luminous in the semi-dark.

He steps forward, crowding Gerard back further into the shadows and sliding a hand into his sweaty hair, tangling his fingers in and pulling a little. His thoughts are a jumble of random words: _exsanguinate_ , _falter_ , _miasma_ , _brink_. He's always like this until he comes down from the show—limbs and fingers just beginning to tingle, brain a mess of words without meaning. "You look like the moon," he whispers up into Gerard's ear.

He sees Gerard smile and steps even closer, burying his face into Gerard's sweaty neck. He snuffles, licks a little, and Gerard squirms under his tongue but then presses closer in. He tastes salty and bitter—makeup and sweat. Frank's about to slide down to his knees, has already tensed his thighs, when Gerard cups his hand under Frank's jaw and pulls him in, kissing him deep and dirty.

It's not frantic, and Frank thinks that's strange, feels like it should be with adrenaline still snaking through his veins, heart still beating fast. Gerard's fingers are light on his jaw, though, like he's handling something precious and breakable. Which, fuck that. Frank noses up into Gerard's hairline, blowing strands away from his mouth and breathing, "Come on. Fuck. I wanna—"

He never gets to finish the thought, because Gerard is sliding down the wall, kneeling in front of him. He always goes down more slowly than Frank, who drops down like it's nothing, has constant bruises on his knees. Gerard puts on a fucking show, looking up at Frank with want in his eyes and a smirk on his lips, and just like that, Frank's half-hard and all those random words in his head have twisted themselves into one single "Yes." He wants this, wants that mouth, wants to snag his fingers in Gerard's hair and pull him in.

Gerard gets Frank's pants open and shoves his face in, not even touching Frank's cock, just rubbing his sweaty cheek against Frank's belly and pressing his nose into his pubes. Frank grins, curling his hand around the side of Gerard's head and holding him close, grinding against him. He lets up and Gerard arches his neck, looking up at him with a small smile.

He misses seeing Gerard's freaky little teeth, misses the crazy-wide grin that he gets when he's truly happy. Frank used to see it all the fucking time, but lately it's been happening less and less. Just before Gerard closes his eyes and dips down to take Frank's cock in his mouth—just before Frank loses all of his thoughts completely—he decides that he's going to make it his fucking mission to make Gerard smile like that again, and fucking _soon_.

Then Gerard makes a little noise and goes down, sucking Frank's cock like it's his job, and Frank forgets everything else. He just concentrates on staying upright and not choking Gerard with his dick as he thrusts forward, his cock calling the shots, calling his hips forward like they're fucking spring-loaded.

" _Fuck_ ," he whispers fervently, and Gerard grins around his dick—at least, Frank thinks it's a grin—and slides back and off. He grabs Frank's hips and shoves him sideways and up against the wall, holding him down with one arm. Gerard wraps his hand around Frank's cock and goes down again, pumping steadily as Frank starts to bliss out, slipping into that awesome state of mind where you're getting close and you just get to ride it out, letting it build. He reaches down and cups his hand around Gerard's cheek, feeling himself move in Gerard's mouth. It's overwhelming—the feeling of riding Gerard's tongue, hot and slick, Gerard's hand jacking him steadily.

"Fuck, Gee, I'm—" he gasps out, and he's surprised by his own voice, how rough it is. He's used to having to be quiet—semi-public blowjobs are a fact of life on tour—and he didn't mean to say anything, but tonight he can't fucking help it. Gerard ignores him and goes down further, sliding his tongue all up the underside of Frank's dick and moaning. Frank can't hear it—the techs are breaking down the stage and there's noise all around them—but he can feel it, and that's all it fucking takes; three seconds later he comes in Gerard's mouth with a muffled cry, his breath ragged.

He looks down and sees Gerard's hand moving on his own fly, trying to get it open one-handed as he grabs Frank's leg for balance. "Fuck, Frank. I've got to— I need—"

He's babbling, voice low and desperate, and Frank gets down there quickly and helps get his pants open, licking his palm in a weird parallel of Gerard's onstage move and shoving his hand into Gerard's briefs. He jerks Gerard fast and hard, the way he knows he likes best. Gerard is noisy, making these little moans like he can't control himself at all, and Frank slides a hand over Gerard's mouth. Gerard closes his eyes and moans even louder behind Frank's fingers.

Frank feels Gerard's lips sliding against his palm, his breath hot against Frank's skin. He lets up slightly and Gerard takes Frank's fingers in, tonguing the pads and sucking. Frank pulls in a sharp breath, then grins and thrusts his fingers in deeper, filling Gerard's mouth. Gerard's head goes back and his lids fall half-closed. Fuck, Frank loves watching this. Even here, in the shadows of the stage, their eyes have adjusted enough, and he only needs to see Gerard's face, that little intake of breath and the way his eyes squeeze shut, his mouth open wide around Frank's fingers as he comes all over his own belly.

Frank laughs a little and slides his fingers out of Gerard's mouth. He smears saliva across Gerard's face, makes him look even more debauched than he already does with his face all flushed, damp hair clinging to his forehead. Gerard gives him that same little smile and presses his face into Frank's shoulder for a second before rocking back on his heels and standing up slowly. He reaches down to help Frank up.

"God, I needed that." Gerard's voice is raw and wrecked. "Haven't blown you since, um—" He looks at the ceiling, running his thumb across his bottom lip and then sticking it in his mouth to gnaw on the nail.

Frank pulls Gerard's hand out of his mouth. "It was on the plane back from Copenhagen, remember?"

"Oh, shit, right." Gerard giggles. "Fucking airplane bathroom gymnastics." He starts to bite the thumbnail of his other hand and then proceeds to talk around the finger. "You came so hard I couldn't swallow it all." The corner of his mouth quirks up in a soft smile. "It was messy."

"I remember." Frank grins, easy and open, and they both do up their pants. Frank tugs his shirt down and does the same to Gerard's. He leans in close and says, "Hey, so. I want to take you on a date."

Gerard looks startled. "Aren't you supposed to do that shit _before_ you start fucking?" He sounds pleased, though.

"That's the point. I want to take you somewhere awesome, just us. You need a break. Fuck, we all do." And that was maybe the wrong thing to say, because Gerard's face falls and he looks off to the other side of the stage. Frank curses under his breath and mumbles, "Shit, sorry."

"No, it's cool," Gerard says, slipping his hand into his hair and pulling a little. "I just miss him, you know?"

"Yeah," Frank sighs. "I know. Me too."

"But like," Gerard stops for a second and drops his hand. "I've never played shows without him before. It's fucking weird. And—"

Gerard trails off, and Frank says, "Of course, dude. He's your brother. It fucking sucks, and I get that, and we have a day off tomorrow, thank fuck." He softens his voice. "And I'm going to take you somewhere awesome."

Gerard smiles and then his eyes go a little wicked and he says, "We could just stay in the hotel room all day." His cheeks flush again, and Frank's heart actually seems to skip a beat. Gerard was choking on his dick not five minutes ago and now he's blushing like a fucking schoolgirl. Fuck, he's so gone for this dude.

Frank slides his hand down Gerard's back and grabs his ass, pulling Gerard close. "God, you feel fucking good," he whispers, and his voice goes all low like it's a come-on. "That's a solid fucking backup plan."

***

"Hey Toro, can I borrow your laptop for a minute?" Frank's showered and changed and back on the bus. He's standing over Ray, who's on the couch with his arms wrapped protectively around his laptop.

"Sure," Ray says, but he doesn't hand it over. "What do you need it for?" His eyes dart toward the bunks and then he looks quickly back at Frank.

Frank can't resist, shifts his own eyes toward the bunks, and says, "Dude, I only need it for like five minutes, tops. We get the internet in here, right?" He holds out one hand, cocks his hip one way and his chin the other, and tries to hold his expression steady as Ray's eyebrows draw together and he smooshes his laptop further into his chest.

"Can't you just use it out here?" He sounds a little desperate. Frank's resolve is crumbling, but he holds firm for another moment and then relaxes his frame, giggling and making grabby hands at the computer.

"Your _face_. I just wanted to look something up." He steps closer and starts to cram himself in the six inches of space between Ray and the arm of the couch, ending up pressed tight against Ray's side. "Here, I'll sit right next to you while I do it."

He reaches for the laptop again and Ray hands it over. "You're hilarious." He scoots away from Frank, stretching his arms up and yawning.

Frank is already googling, but he takes a second to give Ray the side-eye. "You're the one who assumed I was going to use your computer for jerkoffs. You got what you deserved."

Bob steps onto the bus and throws his bag on the floor. "The internet is for porn, though," he says, flopping down on the other couch.

Frank sniffs and turns his attention back to the screen. "Some of us are actually getting laid regularly," he mutters, trying to make the stupid trackpad scroll down the list of events he's looking at. Bob's dirty, sweaty t-shirt hits his face a second later. "Ugh, fuck." He grabs it and considers shoving it in Ray's face next until he remembers that Ray is kind of doing him a favor. He tucks it under his thigh. Later. "That shit is _rank_ , Bryar. You need to take like twelve showers." 

He thinks then about the fact that he's willing—no, _happy_ —to get his face all up in Gerard's business right after a show when he's at his smelliest, how he fucking revels in it, digs his nose into the filthiest parts of Gerard and it just makes him harder. "Huh," he says kind of under his breath. The words on the screen swim in front of his eyes as he zones out thinking about getting his face back in Gerard's crotch. Granted, he also likes it when Gerard showers. Week-old Way funk isn't the most delightful of scents, no matter his particularly high tolerance. When Gerard is freshly showered and smelling like his girly products, Frank wants to do him harder than ever, wants to make him dirty, make him sweat and come all over him.

His reverie is broken when Bob's filthy shirt is shoved back into his face, and he snatches it away with a muffled shout, grabbing Bob's fingers and not letting go. "What the fuck, I was just sitting here."

"You were thinking about fucking Gerard. I could tell." Bob's on his knees in front of Frank, twisting his arms trying to get out of Frank's grip.

"What's with the motherfucking thought police, Jesus," Frank's voice gets abruptly loud as he struggles with Bob, and then he lets go. Bob falls back and catches himself on one hand. He winces and Frank leans down to help him up. "Sorry, dude. Your wrist okay?"

Bob pulls his hand back and shoves at Frank's head. Not hard, though, so Frank takes it as a love tap and looks around for the computer. Uh, whoops. He'd forgotten all about it during the fight with Bob, and Ray's holding it out of the way, accusation in his eyes. "You done?"

"I'm done if Bob's done." He looks up, and Bob is slouching on the other couch, taping up his wrists. "You better jerk off before you do that. Otherwise it's gonna take for fucking ever." He mimes jerking off stiff-wristed until he gets grudging laughs out of both of them.

"Not a problem," Bob says, rolling his eyes.

Frank starts cracking up. "Gerard totally used the shower right after you, didn't he? Oh, man. No matter what he does, he ends up covered in jizz."

"I cleaned up, asshole," Bob protests. "We're not talking about this anymore."

"You better have." Frank takes the laptop back, giving Toro a placating look as he does. "I told him he has to get clean and use soap or he's not getting any tomorrow."

"I beg you to shut up." Bob's voice is even, but Frank can hear a light layer of amusement shot through it, so he ignores the words completely.

"Told him I was going to give him the smell test when he got back, too." Frank pauses for dramatic effect. "Gonna get all up in there. Stick my face right up in his pubes." Bob and Ray make simultaneous noises of disgust.

"Frank. I don't want to talk about Gerard's pubes. Ever." Ray's voice has gone all high and squeaky.

Gerard chooses this moment to walk through the door. "Why are we talking about my pubes?" Gerard sounds both amused and nervous, like he's ready to get the joke, even if it's on him. Frank looks up at him and his chest does a weird hitching, swelling thing, and he just wants to grab Gerard and kiss his stupid beautiful fucking face.

"They better smell like fucking _roses_ , or this," he leans to the side and grabs his own ass, "is off-limits tomorrow." Frank's grinning like a fool and he doesn't even care that Bob and Ray are making more grumbly noises.

"Oh. Well, they probably smell like, uh," Gerard leans over and peers into his bag. "Strawberries." He gives Frank a steady look. "Will that be good enough?"

Frank giggles and looks back down at the screen. "We'll see. I'll come smell you later."

Gerard snorts. "Can't wait." Frank bites his bottom lip and watches Gerard wander back toward the bunks until he's through the door and out of sight.

A moment later, he feels Ray staring at him. "What? I can feel your look."

"You're actually in love with him, aren't you?" Ray sounds kind of amazed, and Frank can't help laughing.

He doesn't see the point in beating around the bush. "Pretty much, yeah." He and Gerard haven't actually said it in so many words, but yeah. Fuck, yeah. He's ridiculously, stupidly in love with Gerard Way.

"I thought you guys were just fucking." Bob sounds shocked too, and Frank wonders how they could possibly have missed the signs—he'd thought it was visible from space.

"Nope. Not just." Frank looks up and winks at Bob. Bob rolls his eyes, but Frank can see him grinning.

***

"Fuck." Frank's been fighting with the stupid computer for eight whole minutes. "I can't find anything awesome to do." He shoves the laptop back at Ray. "Technology hates me."

Ray settles it back in his lap. "Why, what are you looking for?"

"I just wanted to take him somewhere fun tomorrow." Frank nods toward the bunks and slumps down and rests his head against Ray's arm. "Y'know, cheer him up."

Ray starts typing. "Yeah, he's been pretty bummed," he says, and Frank's glad that he's not the only one who's noticed.

Frank closes his eyes. He's starting to come down from the show for real now, and the fact that he doesn't have to play again for almost forty-eight straight hours is starting to dawn on him. "Dude," he mumbles into Ray's arm, "we don't have any responsibilities tomorrow. Not a fucking one."

"I know." Ray sounds almost reverent. "I'm going to sleep until three and get fucking room service."

They've been going full fucking tilt all year, traveling the world with hardly a break. The past few months have been crazy, and then they lost Mikey. The official story is that he wants to spend time with Alicia, but really, the breakneck pace is just too fucking much. Frank misses Mikey too. He loves Ray and Bob, but Mikey has this way of making a whole room feel lighter, more fun; he made you feel like you were always in on every joke.

Frank pulls out his phone, which he never fucking uses except to call his mom, and texts Mikey: _miss you dude._

A couple minutes later, a reply comes through: _i've been gone for like a week. pussy. (miss u too)_

Then, thirty seconds later: _take care of g, ok?_

Frank types out " _on it >:)_" and closes his phone.

A couple seconds later it buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out to read: _gross. (thanks)_

He smirks and leans his head back against Ray.

"Got it." Ray sounds smug. He turns the screen toward Frank. "How much do you love me?"

Frank reads what's on the screen. "Holy shit, _so_ much. Dude, you are a motherfucking google ninja." Frank snakes his arms up like an octopus and gets one around Ray's neck. "Seriously. Get down here and make out with me. You deserve it."

Ray snorts and shoves Frank's arms away, but his smile is huge.

Frank gives up trying to pull him down and pats his cheek, sitting up. "Seriously, he's going to love it." He knows he can look damn earnest when he wants to, and he's feeling pretty fucking earnest right now. "Thank you." He can't fucking wait until tomorrow.

***

"I thought the whole point of a day off is that you get to sleep in." Gerard's coming dangerously close to full-on whining, and Frank sets his teeth and reminds himself that he's on a mission. Strangling Gerard is not part of that mission, no matter how much he might be asking for it right now. "It's still morning. Why am I not sleeping right now?"

Frank sighs. "Because I am taking you on an awesome date and I'm the greatest boyfriend in the world and in about half an hour you are going to be so sorry for being such a whiny bitch, I can't even tell you." Gerard looks at him pathetically from the other side of the bench seat, eyes still crusty with sleep, black hair rumpled and sticking out everywhere. "Aw, jeez." Frank reaches out and grabs Gerard by the back of the neck, pulling him bodily across the seat and putting his arm around him. Gerard snuffles and leans on Frank, his eyes dropping closed.

They're in a cab at 10:30 AM on their first day off in ages that doesn't have to be spent driving or giving interviews or flying to another motherfucking continent. He's going to take advantage if he has to kill them both trying.

"Also, I happen to know that you fell asleep at like one last night. I could hear you snoring from the lounge." Frank folds his arm up and ruffles Gerard's hair. "You got plenty of sleep."

"That's not true." Gerard sounds less whiny and more petulant now. Frank decides that's progress in the right direction. Gerard is still talking, and Frank tunes back in. "—build up a deficit of sleep that you need to make up for by sleeping longer periods when you can." Gerard sits back up and folds his arms. "Like on your day off," he finishes, giving Frank a look.

Frank just smiles, and Gerard's eyelids are drooping again when he suddenly sits bolt upright, whipping his head around to look out the window. "Frankie, look. Starbucks! Can we go? Please?" All traces of irritation are gone from his face, which has transformed into a mask of hope.

Frank giggles. "Jesus, I didn't know that eyes could _get_ that big." He leans forward. "Hey, we'll get out here, okay?"

Gerard gives him an abortive hug while gathering up his jacket and rummaging in his bag for his sunglasses. It's a grey, rainy day, but they're both wearing sunglasses and hats, their hoods pulled up against both rain and recognition.

Frank pays the driver and they get out, crossing the street at a run. They keep their hoods up when they order their coffee, and though Frank sees the cashier freeze for a second when he hands her his money—fucking hand tattoos—she just smiles and gives him his change.

Gerard is playing with one of the stuffed bears in the bin by the cash register. "Look, it's got a little hoodie and a hat. It's dressed like us."

Frank grins at Gerard as the barista returns with their coffee. "He needs sunglasses."

Gerard pushes the bear's arms up. "Yeah, and some sweet knuckle tatts. Ooh, coffee." Frank laughs as Gerard tosses the bear back into the bin and makes grabby hands at the cup.

***

They're huddled under the green awning outside, and Gerard takes a sip followed by a contented sigh. "So, do we need to flag down another cab? Did you ask the dude to wait?" He cranes his neck, looking up and down the street.

Frank says, "Nope," and then just waits, grinning. He can tell the exact moment that Gerard sees the sign on the theatre across the street because his whole body stills and his mouth actually drops open. Frank can feel his own smile getting wider as he watches Gerard.

"Frankie, holy shit, seriously?" Gerard's eyes are huge, and he looks like his next twelve Comic-Cons just came all at once.

Frank nods at him, and then he suddenly has an armful of Gerard. It reminds him forcefully of the days when Gerard was all flailing limbs and unpredictable movements, but god, this is so much better. He checks that both coffees are going to stay upright and then clings back for a second. "All three movies, back to back. Extended editions. Toro found the listing." 

Gerard kisses him on the cheek and then pulls him out into the rain. "When do they start? We can't be late; I don't want to miss the intro." They're both getting wet, and Frank lets himself be dragged along, pulling Gerard's hood up for him as they walk quickly through the rain. "Cate Blanchett has the most awesome voice, right? Fuck, the casting was so perfect."

They cross the street and stop in front of the huge poster advertising a one-day-only showing of the Lord of the Rings series. A line has formed outside the theatre and Gerard looks back at Frank, stricken. "Shit. What if it's sold out?"

Frank rubs his back. "Relax, Gee. I called ahead. We've got tickets waiting at the box office. Let's go."

***

They're in the back row of a huge old art deco theatre from the twenties. There's a mural painted on the ceiling and wall sconces provide the limited light. Despite the line, the theatre is barely a third full. Nobody seems to have noticed them, and the five rows in front of them are all empty. Gerard slumps into his seat, smiling over at Frank. "It's _perfect_ , Frankie." He takes Frank's coffee and sets it on the floor next to his own. "You're the best boyfriend in the world, and I'm going to make out with you until the movie starts."

Frank huffs out a laugh, but it ends up in Gerard's mouth as he proceeds to kiss the fuck out of Frank. Frank gets with the program, snaking a hand up into Gerard's hair and angling himself to press even closer. Gerard's lips are warm and soft and only slightly chapped. His kisses taste like cigarettes masked by fresh sips of coffee, and Frank tilts his head and opens his mouth more, dragging his tongue along Gerard's.

He's just at the point where his hands are itching to wander south and find out how Gerard's dick feels about things when the lights dim and the music starts. Gerard startles out of the kiss, eyes wide, and looks at the screen. He leans back in to give Frank one more kiss, stopping by his ear to whisper, "Thank you," as he grabs his coffee and settles back into the seat.

Frank gets his own coffee and sneaks another look at Gerard. He's smiling, wide and open, and Frank can see his weird little teeth shining in the projected light from the screen. He feels a rush of warmth in his chest. He wants to make Gerard look like that every day. Forever. He turns back to the screen where Galadriel is telling the story of the One Ring. He puts his feet up and settles in to watch.

***

"It's so awesome, Mikes. All three movies in a row, on the big screen. It's gonna take like twelve hours." Gerard's pacing back and forth by the back door of the theatre, smoking, his cell phone pressed to his ear. "The extended versions, yeah. And they give us, like, intermissions in the middle of the movie, which is perfect so we can smoke. And there's even a Starbucks across the street."

Gerard's words are coming fast, tumbling over one another. Frank smokes and looks out across the parking lot, smiling at the reverent way Gerard says "Starbucks." The rain has gotten worse since they've been in the theatre, and the cars in the lot are mostly obscured. It looks like a painting, all the lines blurred and softened by the rain.

He's thinking about how weird it is that water just falls from the sky like that when his field of view is suddenly filled with Gerard's face, so open and bright that Frank has to pull him in and kiss him. Gerard closes his eyes and folds into the kiss, crowding close. Frank recognizes his own 'I'm going to use you for warmth' move, but Gerard can steal his moves all he wants as long as he keeps using them on Frank. Gerard makes a little content noise that somehow goes straight to Frank's dick, and then Frank is standing alone in the cold because Gerard has pulled back and is looking at his watch. "We've got to get back." He's grinning and bouncing on the balls of his feet as he holds the door open for Frank.

Frank feels his phone buzz in his pocket as they head into the theatre. It's a text from Mikey: _you rule. fuck some orcs up for me._

He grins and puts the phone away.

***

The Balrog is spitting fire and Gandalf is hanging by fingertips from the edge of a cliff. Frank scoots back, realizing that he's slipped to the edge of his seat. It's been long enough since he's seen the movie—and really, it doesn't matter how long, it does this to him every time—he's caught up in it completely.

When Gandalf says, " _Fly, you fools_ ," Frank hears it from the screen and from his right. Gerard is staring at the screen, transfixed, whispering the words along with Ian McKellan. Frank turns back just in time to see Gandalf let go, and fuck—even when he fucking knows what's going to happen, how it's going to end, it still gets him every time.

He sits back, watches the Fellowship dodging arrows and crying on the rocks, and he feels Gerard's hand slip into his. Gerard is still watching the movie, and he's got his bottom lip in his teeth, brow slightly furrowed. Frank whispers, "dork," into Gerard's ear, his voice gone soft and warm.

Gerard just squeezes his hand and puts his head on Frank's shoulder. Frank drags his arm down a little to make it more comfortable for Gerard and turns back to the screen.

***

They have a half hour between Fellowship and Two Towers, so Frank runs back to Starbucks while Gerard holds their seats. More people have come into the theatre since the start of the movie, but nobody seems interested in watching from the very back, and the darkness seems to be all the cover they need. It's fucking refreshing, not being recognized—being able to hold hands in a movie theatre without anyone giving a shit who they are. Frank's enjoying that almost as much as the movies themselves.

He comes around the corner and stops just behind the first seat of the aisle. Gerard has his hoodie up and his peripheral vision is apparently gone, because he doesn't acknowledge Frank, just keeps drawing. Frank leans over the seat to see what Gerard's been doing and then crows with joy and steps closer, handing a startled Gerard his coffee. Gerard takes it automatically, leaving the sketchbook vulnerable. Frank snatches it up, ignoring Gerard's protests, and looks closer. It's clearly Frank's face, but he's not wearing ripped jeans and a hoodie—nope. He's dressed as Aragorn, complete with the hair in his face, and he's drawing his sword, looking all badass and hot as some Orcs charge from the bottom of the page.

"This is the greatest thing I have ever seen," Frank says, running his fingers lightly over the drawing. "It's that scene at the end, right? Dude, I look so fucking cool."

Gerard sounds shifty. "What? No, that's not you. It's not—"

Frank interrupts. "You have a thing for Aragorn, don't you," he says, utterly failing to keep the glee out of his voice. This is _hilarious_ , and he's going to milk it for a _while_.

Gerard is blushing—even in the dim theatre, Frank can see it. "No," he protests, but his voice is weak. "I just think that's a cool scene. And you were on my mind. So, I put you in the outfit, and—"

Frank actually claps his hands. "You want me to _dress up as him_ , don't you. Oh my god, it's like the gay version of Princess Leia in the gold bikini. You are the world's biggest dork." He's grinning so hard that his cheeks kind of hurt, and Gerard is just sinking lower and lower in his seat, trying to take back the sketchbook at the same time.

"Whatever," Gerard mumbles. "Should've drawn you as a hobbit." He looks at Frank defiantly.

Frank shakes his head, still grinning. "Dude, you're not going to make me forget about this with lame insults. You think you're the first person to call me a hobbit? You're not even the tenth, motherfucker." He wonders where he can find a costume at the next tour stop. He's totally going to surprise Gerard next hotel night, and it's going to be hilarious. Plus, he's pretty sure there will be blowjobs, so it's a win-win.

Gerard is still trying to take back the sketchbook, so to be contrary Frank pulls it further away, turning the page. Gerard squeaks, "No!" and almost drops his coffee in his effort to get it away from Frank. Frank steadies the coffee and holds the page out of Gerard's reach, looking for the source of Gerard's freakout. Once he sees it, he surrenders the book by default because he's doubled over with laughter, free hand over his mouth, trying not to attract attention.

"Oh my god, I love you so much," he whispers as the lights start to dim. Between gasps of laughter, he manages to get out, "You drew— yourself— as an elf." He looks over at Gerard, who has slumped so low in the seat that he probably can't even see over the row in front of them. "Of _course_ you did." He laughs some more and slowly lets it die down. "Oh, come on. You look hot as an elf. I'd do Elf-Gerard. And hey—I'm Aragorn, so I totally speak the language. We can whisper sexy stuff to each other in Elvish while we bone. It'll be awesome." He snickers when Gerard's arm rises up, middle finger aloft. He settles back in his seat, getting comfortable. "You love me," he whispers as the movie starts.

***

Legolas stands on a hill, firing arrow after arrow at the oncoming villains as the good guys ride up behind him. It seems like he's going to get fucking trampled or some shit, but at the last second he reaches back, grabs the bridle of Gimli's horse, and _swings himself sideways into the motherfucking saddle_.

All of this is objectively really fucking cool. Frank loves this part. But all _he_ can think about is Gerard's hard-on for Aragorn. Which really just leads to him thinking about Gerard's cock. Which, as awesome as this movie is, is a pretty fucking distracting thought. But they're in public and Gerard's really into this, and Frank can totally keep his hands to himself. They've got a hotel room to go to later. Yes. He folds his hands in his lap. He can totally wait.

He makes it until Helm's Deep. He just can't stop thinking about it. It's been several days since he's had Gerard's cock in his mouth, hard and hot, and he just fucking _wants_ it. Nothing about this movie experience is dampening his need. Not even concentrating super-hard anytime Gollum is on screen. Not picturing Orcs fucking. Nothing.

He keeps his eyes on the screen and lets his arm slide down to rest on Gerard's leg. Gerard shifts a little in his seat and puts his hand over Frank's. Which is sweet, but not what Frank is going for. He drags his hand up, slipping it down between Gerard's open thighs, not stopping until his palm is cupped over Gerard's cock, which gives a definite twitch under his hand. He can feel the heat through Gerard's worn jeans, and Gerard sucks in a soft breath as Frank moves his hand a little, rubbing Gerard through the denim.

Frank's still looking straight ahead, but he can see Gerard's pale face turned towards him as he moves over Gerard's dick. He can feel Gerard getting harder, and the thought of him hard under Frank's hand, here in the dark theatre, makes his own breath come a little faster. He leans over and kisses Gerard's neck, careful not to get in the way of the screen. Gerard shifts again, pressing up into Frank's moving palm, and Frank bites down gently at the spot where Gerard's neck meets his shoulder.

He feels Gerard's sharp breath in under his lips and tips his head up to kiss the underside of Gerard's jaw. Gerard lets out a little moan, which Frank's pretty sure only he can hear. The movie is loud, but he leans up and whispers, "shh," in Gerard's ear, sliding his other hand up and over Gerard's mouth.

Gerard is definitely hard now, and Frank can't wait any more. They're still in public and he knows that Brian will fucking murder them if they get caught; he knows this is stupid but he doesn't fucking _care_. He slides off his seat and folds down on his knees in front of Gerard. Gerard's eyes go wide and he looks around the theatre. Frank ignores him, thumbs open his pants, and goes down.

Gerard is leaking already, and the taste blooms on Frank's tongue. He moans without even meaning to, but thank fuck, the onscreen battle covers the sound. His focus narrows, like a curtain has come down. The battle is just a jumble of noise in the background, and all he can see is Gerard's belly shining pale in the reflected movie light, the dark hair tangled between the open V of his fly. All he can smell is Gerard and soap and sex, and fuck, _yes_ , this is what he fucking _needs_. He loses track of time, of everything but the feel of Gerard in his mouth, that stretch, how fucking good he tastes. 

He feels Gerard's hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. "What? Is someone coming?" he says, pulling back.

Gerard's eyes look a little crazed and he's breathing hard. He shakes his head. "I didn't want you to miss the Ents kicking ass," he says in a rough whisper. He gestures at the screen, and Frank just stares at him, open-mouthed, for a moment.

"You stopped a _blowjob_ so I wouldn't miss the trees going apeshit?" Frank can feel his smile get wider. He really fucking loves this beautiful dork who will _stop a blowjob in progress_ because Frank might miss an awesome part of the movie. He's about to lean back in and finish what he started when he feels Gerard grab his arm in a fucking vice grip. "Someone's coming," Gerard hisses, and Frank barely manages to get back in his seat and shove a hoodie across Gerard's lap before a girl walks right past their row and out the theatre door.

" _Shit_ ," Frank breathes. Gerard looks at him, his expression at war between turned on and horrified, and Frank laughs and leans in to kiss him. "It's okay," he whispers. "She didn't even look over here."

Gerard nods and his eyes lose the panicky look. Frank turns back to the screen. The Ents are indeed going apeshit, and Frank fucking _does_ love this part. It's the best payoff in the world for having to listen to the slow-ass ancient tree speeches for like ten hours. They release the dam, and the bastard Orcs start to drown. The Ent that's on fire leans down and douses itself in the rush of water, and Frank hears Gerard whisper, "Fuck, yeah." 

The battle is still fucking raging when Gerard slides his hand over Frank's and slowly pulls it under the hoodie on his lap. He stares straight ahead as Frank grins and gets his hand around Gerard's half-hard cock, jacking him fast and tight. His arm is at a totally awkward angle, and he's wondering if it's even working for Gerard when Gerard stiffens, puts his hand over his mouth, and comes in Frank's hand with a muffled cry.

Frank uses the hoodie to clean up and throws it on the floor. "Thank god I brought a backup layer," he whispers.

Gerard leans over and kisses him hard. "You don't even know," he whispers. "Sixteen-year-old me just came in his pants in some alternate universe and he has no idea why. You're like a fucking wet dream come to life."

Frank wants to turn back to the movie, but he can't just let that go. "But if it's an alternate universe, you wouldn't be yourself, right? What if in the alternate universe you're like, captain of the football—" Gerard snorts. "Okay, captain of the cheerleaders or some shit. Maybe you don't even _like_ Lord of the Rings."

Gerard shakes his head. "There is no version of me that wouldn't come in his pants at the idea of getting sucked off during Lord of the Rings." He sniffs and settles back into his seat with an air of finality. "It's part of my core self. Like, my _essential being_. If I don't dig that, I'm not _me_."

Frank laughs quietly. "Okay, fine, you win."

Gerard grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together, and turns back to the screen. "I really, really do."

***

As soon as the Two Towers credits roll, Gerard pulls Frank out of the theatre and around the corner into the bathroom. He shoves him into the last stall and locks the door, pushing Frank up against the wall. He presses his entire body against Frank, mouth against Frank's ear, and breathes out, "I'll take my time later, I promise," while working Frank's belt open with both hands. Frank is reeling—most of his brain is still back in the theatre seat and it takes a minute for him to catch the fuck up. By the time he does, Gerard is on his knees in front of him for the second time in twenty-four hours.

He could get fucking used to this.

Gerard sucks him off like he's in a race, taking him all the way down and working his tongue and throat like it's his sole goal in life to get Frank to come as quickly as possible, and Frank doesn't fucking care at all. Normally, yeah, he likes to take his time, watch Gerard go down on him for a _while_ , see his pretty mouth stretched around his cock, feel his moans when Frank thrusts into his hot, wet mouth. But today, he's got Frank's wrists pinned against the wall, twin points of heat, and he's taking Frank all in, cheeks hollowed, sucking him down.

Frank's been half-hard since he blew Gerard and he's been riding the edge of horny for even longer. This is exactly what he fucking _needs_ —Gerard's mouth around his cock, bobbing up and down, hot and desperate.

Someone walks into the bathroom, and Frank's mind whites out. Someone is _right there_. They're in public, and they could get caught, and he can't make a fucking _sound_. Two more people walk in and continue a conversation. Frank is trembling with the effort to keep from moaning, from fucking Gerard's mouth, from fighting the hold on his wrists just to feel the restraint. His mouth stretches wide in a silent gasp as Gerard pulls him right to the edge and over and he comes so hard he knocks his head back against the tile wall. So hard that he sees stars.

Gerard is leaning back on his heels, panting and trying to keep quiet. He's got this wicked glint in his eyes, and Frank pulls his brain back together enough to smile a little and reach down to help him up. They've got to wait until everyone clears out anyway, so he pulls Gerard close and kisses him softly, the exact opposite of the dick-sucking military campaign that Gerard just conducted while on his knees.

His fingertips are light on Gerard's face and neck, touching him gently, as though he's made of glass. Frank's not sure why, but it feels right. He's not usually one to be gentle—he's more of a grab on and hold tight kind of dude. But right now, Gerard feels like something precious.

He snorts as soon as the thought crosses his mind, and Gerard looks at him, brows furrowed. He smirks and grabs Gerard by his hoodie, pulling him closer and leaning in to do his best Gollum and hiss, "Myyyy. Precioussssss."

Gerard claps a hand over his mouth just in time, and Frank can see him shaking with silent laughter. They wait until the bathroom's clear and then head out to get some food before Return of the King, holding hands until they get to the bathroom door.

***

Return of the King is almost over, and Aragorn is charging with his ghost army, looking all sweaty and battle-worn. Frank grins and elbows Gerard.

Gerard whispers, "Shut _up_ , Frank," but he's smiling. Frank waits for it, looking between Gerard and the screen, and there it is. He's blushing, too. God, Frank's going to get so much mileage out of this. He can't fucking _wait_.

Meanwhile, back onscreen, Eowyn's on the battlefield facing off with the Witch King. He's all kinds of misogynistic, and Frank can't fucking wait for her to take off her helmet and show him what the fuck is _up_. He hears Gerard say the line with her. "I am no man," and when she thrusts her sword into his fucking _face_ , Gerard says, "Yeah, mother _fucker_ ," in a low voice as the Witch King dies.

Frank can't help it—he wraps his arm around Gerard's shoulders and puts his mouth right up to Gerard's ear. "I want to take you home and fuck you 'til you can't see straight." His voice is still low and raw, and he feels Gerard stop breathing for a second. Gerard swallows and nods a few times fast, eyes still fixed on the screen. He bites his bottom lip and then reaches down to adjust his crotch.

In the brightness of the battle scene, Frank can see that Gerard's face is flushed yet again. Frank isn't sure what it says about him that it turns him on when Gerard gets all Victorian-maiden, but it does. Maybe it's because Gerard is the exact opposite when he's onstage, all exhibitionist and commanding, but the heat in his face, that pretty flush in his cheeks—that's because of Frank. That belongs to him.

He puts his head on Gerard's shoulder and settles in to watch the rest of the movie.

***

Gerard has Frank pressed up against the wall for the second time that day. In Frank's opinion, that alone makes this a banner day off. They're back at the hotel, after running through the rain to the cab stand and groping each other in the dark backseat of the taxi. As soon as they made it into the room, Gerard had the door locked and Frank's back against the wall in six seconds flat. They're kissing—the kind of kissing where you break apart breathless and then go right back in before you've really caught your breath; where you can't bring yourself to _not_ be kissing; where you decide that breathing doesn't matter right up until the point when it seriously does.

They make out up against the wall until Frank is hard in his jeans and he can feel Gerard's cock thick and hot against his belly. He pulls Gerard closer, hands on his ass, and they grind together, both groaning. Frank helps Gerard off with his hoodie and t-shirt and goes for his belt at the same time Gerard reaches for Frank's. There's a moment where it's just a mad tangle of arms and fingers and buckles and nobody is getting anywhere until Frank grabs Gerard's wrists and holds them. "Let me." 

Gerard nods and soon he's left standing there in just his black briefs and a whole lot of pale skin, his cock hard and obvious under the thin cotton, and Frank actually trips getting out of his pants when he glances up. Gerard starts to bring his hands up to cover his belly, but Frank gives him a look and he ends up standing awkwardly with his hands on his hips. As Frank watches, he tries a few different poses until he ends up with one hip popped and a hand on his waist.

Frank giggles. "You look like you're waiting for a bus." He keeps wrestling with his jeans and finally kicks them off along with his socks. "But in a sassy way."

Gerard rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I'm waiting for you to fuck me." He walks over to the bed and knees up onto it, looking over his shoulder at Frank. "But in a sassy way."

Frank laughs and grabs the lube and condoms on the way to the bed, kneeling with Gerard and pressing close. He savors the feeling of Gerard almost naked against him—they have a lot of sex, but it's almost always mostly clothed these days. Frank leans up, sliding his lips up Gerard's jaw to his ear. They kiss until they have to break for breath, both panting.

Gerard grins and stands up to get his own underwear off, then Frank's, tossing them away. He gets back up on his knees and pulls Frank close, kissing him again. "So, there was this guy with a fuckton of tattoos sitting next to me at a movie today."

Gerard's voice is warm and low, and Frank leans into him, reaching for the lube. "Mmm. He sounds hot."

"I don't really remember," Gerard says, waving his hand. "Pretty sure he said he was going to fuck me, though."

"'til you can't see straight." Frank hands the bottle to Gerard. "Get yourself ready. I want to watch."

Gerard's whole demeanor changes at Frank's words. His eyes are huge and dark, bottom lip in his teeth. "Yeah." His voice is breathy and intense.

Gerard reaches back, sliding his knees apart, and Frank watches his face, the way concentration turns to pleasure. He touches Gerard lightly, smoothing his hands down his soft sides, his stomach, the tops of his thighs, and he just watches. He sees how Gerard bites his lip and then lets his head fall back, mouth open and eyebrows drawn. He's stretched back, one shoulder down, and his throat is exposed, long and pale.

Frank lets him fuck himself with his fingers for a long while, taking it in, his own cock hard and leaking but untouched. He feels so fucking lucky that he gets to see this, to have this part of Gerard. The flush in Gerard's cheeks has spread to his chest, and Frank trails his fingers lightly down Gerard's cock. It's getting hard to keep his touch easy, but he wants to wait a little longer. Gerard's hips are rocking back toward his own hand and he's openly moaning with it. 

"Shit, Gerard." Frank's voice is low and dirty.

"Fuck." Gerard sounds wrecked, still fucking himself on his fingers. "Please— Just. I need—"

Frank doesn't wait for him to finish, just rolls the condom on and gets himself slick.

Gerard grabs the headboard, spreading his knees and bending forward. "Don't go slow, okay?" Gerard's breath is hitching around the words, but Frank hears them loud and clear.

He slides in steady, doesn't take his time, and Gerard cries out, throwing his head back. When Frank is all the way in, fucking buried in tight wet heat, he presses closer, kissing Gerard's shoulder, biting his neck. Frank's brain is doing that whirly thing where he can't pin a thought down, let alone actual spoken words. He's fucking Gerard hard and fast, but somehow it doesn't feel like enough. His thoughts finally crystallize and he pulls out. Gerard makes a noise of protest, but Frank tugs him close and gasps, "Want to ride me?" And fuck, he wants it, wants to see Gerard's face, wants to watch him work Frank's cock.

"Yes. Fuck yes," Gerard says quickly, and he scrambles out of the way and then comes back to straddle Frank, and fuck. Fuck, yeah. This is exactly what he wants—all that pale skin spread out above him, and Gerard reaching back and guiding his cock back in. They both moan as Frank slides back inside, and it feels so fucking good that Frank almost can't take it.

He throws his forearm across his face and just breathes for a moment as Gerard moves on his cock. He feels Gerard lean back and grabs his hips, fucking up into him hard with every downward slide. Gerard's head is back and his hips are grinding, meeting every thrust. Frank gets a hand on Gerard's cock and starts to jack him slick and fast. He's barely had time to get a good rhythm going when Gerard moans, "Yeah, fuck, like that. Frank. _Frank_ — I'm—" and then he cries out, loud, and comes, hot and wet, all over Frank's chest. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open wide, head thrown back, throat working with ragged breaths.

Frank's still hard as a fucking rock inside Gerard, but he's got a stupid grin on his face, because fuck, he loves watching Gerard come. He slides his hand around Gerard's waist. "You finally got to be loud. I've really fucking missed that."

"Mmm. Me too." Gerard leans back and shakes his hair out of his face, bracing himself on the bed, and Frank gasps at the movement and pressure.

Gerard says, "So how do you want it?" His voice is all low and throaty from coming, and now they're in one of _Frank's_ wet dreams. Frank is trying to pin down his thoughts again—how does he want it? Everything's swirling around too quickly to grasp, like leaves in a wind tunnel, and he says the first thing that comes to mind. 

"I don't know. How would Aragorn want it?" He means it as a joke, expects Gerard to bite him or hit him or flick him off. He doesn't expect him to pull back and think.

Frank doesn't expect him to answer, but he does. "I think he'd have me lie down," Gerard slides off of Frank's cock slowly, with only a small grimace, and then lies down next to Frank, turning toward him. "And then he'd come on my face."

Frank's mouth drops open and his breath catches. They've been fucking for almost a year, and they've never done that. Not on purpose—with that many blowjobs, you're going to get some jizz in the face—not like this. Frank is surprised at how into it he is. All of a sudden he's right back there, on the edge, ready to come. All over Gerard. Fuck. 

"You want it, don't you," he says. It's not a question.

"Yes. Fuck yes. Do it." Gerard's looking up at him, arm splayed across the pillow over his head, back arched a bit so his chest is on display.

Frank kneels up next to Gerard, fisting his cock, condom already off and tossed in the trash by the bed. He trails his fingers down Gerard's chest. "You're so fucking hot like this." He's jacking himself quick and hard, and Gerard's eyes flick between his cock and his arm, and then up to his face. "Just waiting for it. Jesus." He feels powerful and fucking _big_. He can feel the heat building at the base of his spine, and fuck, it's not going to take long. Not when it feels this fucking good, when Gerard is spread out under him, fingertips grazing his belly, lips wet and open. 

It hits him hard and fast, and Frank gasps, "Fuck, fuck. Unhh," and barely remembers to aim as he comes hard, striping Gerard's cheek, his eyebrow, and across his open mouth.

Frank's own mouth is hanging open, and he's staring down at Gerard's face. "Jesus fuck," he groans, stroking himself slowly as he comes down. He flops down next to Gerard, reaching over to help him wipe his face. Gerard looks fucking euphoric, even giggles a little as Frank grabs the corner of the sheet to help him clean up.

"Holy fuck, that was hot." Gerard sounds wrecked but happy.

"I— Uh— Yeah. Yes. Fuck." Frank is still reeling, and complete sentences just aren't happening yet. He can't stop thinking about his come all over Gerard's face—the way Gerard looked, lying there and _waiting_ for it. Jesus.

"I can't believe you brought up Aragorn during sex." Gerard shoves Frank over so that he can flop down, thigh over Frank's legs, head on Frank's chest.

"Dude, it was a _joke_. I thought you were going to give me shit for it. And then maybe a handjob." Frank protests. "How was I supposed to know you'd thought all about how Aragorn would come on your fucking face?"

Gerard starts to laugh, and Frank joins in because it's fucking ridiculous. Gerard leans up so that he's crazy-close and Frank's eyes keep crossing trying to focus. "Frankie, I had the best day." He kisses Frank's cheek. "Thank you. I really fucking needed this."

Frank kisses the top of his head. "We're sleeping in our own filth, by the way," he states. "I'm fucking exhausted."

"Do you expect me to have a problem with that?" Gerard sounds half asleep. He cuddles close to Frank, burrowing under the sheets and pulling them up over them both.

Frank snorts but doesn't respond. He presses his face into Gerard's cheek. "You smell like me," he says, pleased.

"Yeah, you love it," Gerard mumbles.

Frank laughs. "I really fucking do."

It's quiet then, and Frank can finally feel his brain start to slow down. He's thinking that he might actually be able to sleep despite three large coffees when he hears Gerard's quiet, sleepy voice. "I can't believe you blew me during Helm's Deep."

"I totally did." Frank starts to giggle again, and Gerard joins him. "Next up, _Star Wars_."

Gerard gasps. "Oh my god. The combined power of a blowjob and _Star Wars_ would actually summon 16-year-old Gerard from the alternate universe."

Frank sighs. "Shit. Sounds way too dangerous. Forget it."

"I will _not_ forget it. Now that you've said it I'm going to think about it every time I see _Star Wars_." He sounds sleepily upset. "I'm going to get a boner every time I watch it now."

"And that's different from usual _how_ , exactly?" Frank collapses into giggles, and when he opens his eyes, he sees Gerard's middle finger hovering over his face. He swats it away.

"Fuck you, Iero," Gerard says, sleepy and slow once more.

"You did," Frank whispers, grinning.

"Mmm," Gerard hums. "I totally did." He slides an arm across Frank's chest, fingers curling around Frank's side. "Totally perfect day," he murmurs into Frank's shoulder.

Frank thinks about the day and how they saw Lord of the fucking Rings and didn't talk about the band or the shows or the uniforms or the road or the bunks. He thinks about Gerard and the real smile that shows his teeth, and how he looked happy for the first time since Frank can't remember when. "Totally fucking was."

 

The End


End file.
